


The Rollercoaster

by Carrigan



Series: ZAP Verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bottom Zayn, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Top Liam, Tumblr Prompt, Virgin Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7400815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrigan/pseuds/Carrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from Tumblr: "what about Zayn getting fucked for the first time ? Like he's seen how big Liam is and is a bit scared but ends up begging and ruined ?"</p><p>Zayn meets Liam at a club, and his boring night takes a fun turn he didn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rollercoaster

Zayn should have just stayed home.

As he sits alone in an empty booth at the back of the club, picking at the label of the lukewarm beer he’s been nursing, he thinks this is even more pathetic than if he’d just watched Avengers by himself again. At least in his dorm room there’s no one to witness his loserdom except his roommate, who’s almost never home.

It was a terrible plan to begin with, really. A few acquaintances had invited him out, probably only out of politeness since they were all in the same study group and were making plans around (without) him. He knew they expected him to say no. From the way they’d forgotten he was even sitting there, and how when they’d remembered there’d been obvious pity in their voices.

Well fuck you very much, because Zayn may be a lot of things but pathetic isn’t one of them. At least not in public. Or, not very _often_ in public.

The only reason he’s even leading this ridiculous study group is because the Professor had offered him extra credit and a spot on the internship list that was usually reserved for seniors. He’s not some jackass hipster with his head up his ass that can’t tell the difference between expressionism and surrealism. He’s serious about art and creating art, and excuse the hell out of him if that means he doesn’t always have time to go out and party until 3 am or go to mixers, or whatever the hell it is other people do.

And, okay, maybe he’s kind of lonely. He’s starting his second year of Uni, and all the other eager Freshmen he started with have found their bearings. Everyone’s pairing off while he’s stuck floating from group to group, like he doesn’t have a real place anywhere. It’s not a _new_ feeling for Zayn; secondary school wasn’t exactly easy for the half-Pakistani Muslim kid who only wanted to talk about the merits of Dali vs. Picasso or Bell Biv Devoe vs. New Edition.

But Uni was supposed to be different. People were supposed to be open-minded and free-spirited. Instead it’s just Zayn. By himself. _Again_.

And the club hadn’t even been all that horrible, in the beginning. People sent him drinks (which he declined), and the music was good (but he didn’t dance), and he had fun (kinda). But after a while he ends up right here, in an empty booth, wallowing as everyone around him has the time of their life.

Zayn remembers the first time he went to a bar. He’d gone with Danny, Ant, and Doni and gotten piss drunk. He’d spilled one of Doni’s bright pink sugar drinks all over his favorite shirt, Danny threw up in some bushes, and Ant lost a shoe. It’s honestly one of his favorite memories.

But here he is now. Still the lonely weird kid sitting alone at lunch that no one wants to talk to. He’d heard the quote that “life was cyclical” but would have preferred that it not cycled back to him being friendless and miserable. He’s thinking of calling it a night at this point, won’t even bother spending a half hour finding the people he came with just to tell them he’s leaving. They probably don’t even know his last name, and they definitely won’t miss him.

He’s got his phone out, checking his non-existent new messages and deciding whether or not to get an Uber, when he gets the strangest feeling like he’s being watched. He looks up, and sure enough there’s a guy standing in front of the booth, slowly and somewhat rhythmically swaying to the left and right. Zayn can’t tell whether it’s from the music or drunkenness.

He’s smiling, as if he’s waiting patiently for Zayn’s attention. When he finally gets some startled eye contact from Zayn, he waves politely.

“Hiiiii, are these seats taken?”

Zayn, embarrassed yet again at his obvious lack of friends, just shakes his head wordlessly. Here’s this guy, this hot guy, with great hair and a Batman tank top on, telling him to get his lonely ass out of this booth, so him and his probably equally cool and hot friends can sit here and be cool and hot and fun without Zayn hogging the space.

Feeling thoroughly chastised by his own internal monologue, Zayn tenses and prepares to exit the booth and disappear into the night like some sort of friendless goblin. But before he can, Hot Guy, still swaying to a random beat, says “Can I sit here?”

His smile is still wide and bright, but Zayn gets kind of aggravated because fucking hell, he’s moving as fast as he can. Unless Hot Guy wants to catapult him out of the booth like a fucking cannonball, he can’t move any faster.

Zayn glares at him, because right now this whole awful night is becoming all Hot Guy’s fault, and bites out a feigned nonchalant “Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s a free country.” This booth is his now, and he’d rather let rabid dogs bite off his feet and legs than leave it without a fight.

Hot Guy slides into the side of the booth that Zayn’s sitting on, instead of going around like a reasonable person, forcing Zayn to slide further to the middle or be pressed up against him like a canned fish.

Zayn eyes him openly, not bothering to be discreet, as Hot Guy nods his head to a Tinashe song that’s playing over the speakers. Now that he’s closer, Zayn can see sweat clinging to the hair of Hot Guy’s chest, and maybe it’s just the lighting of the club, but there’s a flush to his skin going up his next and below the tank top. He looks like he’s been dancing all night and drinking and just having a great time being gorgeous and not a loser.

All these details succeed in doing is irritating Zayn more, and Zayn’s definitely been called “petty” more than once in his life, so he can’t deny there’s a certain dark pleasure he gets at startling Hot Guy as he leans in to say “You got friends coming over or summat?”

Hot Guy turns to him, eyes wide, and stutters out a “Um, no, just… just me. Thought I’d… sit down awhile. Just sit and chat or, sit. Sit for a bit.” He nods his head and blinks owlishly, and Zayn is so immediately and reluctantly smitten.

The flush in his chest intensifies, and he’s starting to think it’s not just from liquor. The left corner of Zayn’s mouth pulls up into a smile, and Hot Guy returns it with a thousand watt grin that is way too charming and gorgeous for Zayn’s smile not to widen too.

“You’re pissed, mate.”

“Liam,” he corrects, leaning in a bit more to be heard over the music. “My name’s Liam!” Zayn wants to commit his name to memory so he’s not stuck calling him “Hot Guy” every time he wanks off to the thought of this brief encounter.

“Leeyum,” he drawls, and watches his eyes drop to Zayn’s lips and the flush return full-force. “You’re pissed, Liam.”

Liam’s eyes snap back up, and he shakes his head insistently, like a kid convincing a parent they’re not tired, right before they pass out for a nap.

“I’m not, I swear! I had like, 2 beers. And 3 shots. Not drunk though!” He’s still smiling, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and Zayn honestly thinks he’s adorable. “What’s your name?” He throws his arm around the back of the seating to scoot closer, and Zayn can smell tequila on his breath.

“Zayn,” he says back. Liam makes an O with his mouth as if he was told some profound secret instead of Zayn's first name.

“That's a really pretty name! I mean, not _pretty,_ but like, _cool._ It's a _cool_ name. Yeah. Cool.”

He’s nodding to himself again, and Zayn is endlessly entertained by Hot Guy - _Liam_ \- and his antics.

“Yeah, you're not drunk at all,” Zayn teases, and he's amused when Liam’s eyes stray down to his lips again. Zayn's never pulled before, is still very embarrassingly a virgin, but he figures if all his future partners are as obvious as Liam then this won't be so bad.

“Do you study? Like, here? Do you go here? To this school? I go here.”

“Yeah. Second year, art major. You?”

Liam’s as close as he can be without physically touching Zayn, and he's radiating off waves of that “positive energy” bullshit that Waliyha talks about. Zayn always thought it was a crock of shit, but all the same his mood feels impossibly lifted since Liam sat down. Maybe it's the intensity of Liam’s friendly gaze, or how he manages to look inviting and untouchably brilliant all at the same time. Either way he’s got absolutely no complaints about what’s happening right now.

“I'm in my last year of a six year program. Sports law. So you like art? I like art! That guy who does the stuff with the clocks? Crazy!”

Zayn laughs at Liam’s wild gestures as he tries to explain just how “cool” he thinks Dali’s art is. They talk for a while about nothing, about their classes (completely different), their taste in movies (similar), and their favorite superheros (Zayn says Ironman, Liam says Batman, and they agree to disagree).

He's surprised to find out that Liam’s 24 to Zayn's 19, but given that he's a sixth year senior it shouldn't be too surprising. Really, he just finds it shocking that someone who likes sports and law and _Batman_ would be willing to sit here and talk with him. Flirt with him? Zayn’s been called oblivious before, but you don’t talk to a stranger for this long in a club unless you’re attracted to them, right?

“So are you, like, doing anything later?” Liam gives him these eager, hopeful eyes, and Zayn’s heart does a weird stutter thing. Partly because holy shit is this really happening, and partly because holy shit are they gonna _fuck_ after this? But Zayn is nothing if not prideful, and he can’t help but to tease. From the very moment Liam stood in front of Zayn’s booth, the momentum has been on his side. It’s left Zayn flustered and off-kilter; he’s never been in this territory before, and it thrills him as much as it terrifies him.

“Are you trying to pull me, Liam?” Zayn gives him the smirk that he’s practiced in the mirror, the one where he lifts his eyebrow and tilts his head. He’s very aware that his face isn’t completely unfortunate, and it’d be accurate to say that vanity is one of the few things keeping his self esteem from completely tanking. Regardless of what happens after this, it feels good to see Liam’s eyes darken just at Zayn’s words.

They’d ordered a few more drinks while talking, and the alcohol had made both of them bolder. Zayn feels Liam’s hand rest gently on his knee, then travel slowly up the inseam of his jeans. He’s a little embarrassed by how quickly he reacts, breath stuttering in his chest, and he can feel a flush rise to his cheeks. Despite the bravado he’s really never done any of this before, and it’s exhilarating.

“You can punch me if I’m being, like, too forward,” Liam says, trailing his hand even higher until he’s just barely cupping Zayn’s hardening cock. “But my flatmate’s out of town? And you can totally say no if you want, but…”

He applies the slightest amount of pressure, squeezing the outline of Zayn’s cock in his jeans, and it has his hand reaching out to grab the edge of the booth’s table to steady himself. It feels like if he weren’t sitting down he’s just float away into outer space.

Zayn manages to gasp out a “Yeah, let’s, yeah. Let’s do that.” and then Liam is pulling him out of the booth with one hand, and pulling out his phone to nab an Uber with the other. It’s dizzying, and by the time they maneuver their way through the crowd and get their coats from the coat check, the Uber is outside waiting for them.

The car is going to take them to Liam’s flat where they’re gonna… what? Zayn’s not 100% sure what their endgame is here, or how far they’re gonna go. Zayn wonders if this all sounds as incredible out loud as it does in his head, or if hookups come more naturally to other people. Apropos of these thoughts, he grabs Liam’s shoulder as they’re exiting the club into the chilly pre-dawn air, and turns him so they’re facing each other.

“Are we gonna, like, fuck?” He sees that Liam’s face looks as stunned as Zayn feels on the inside, but he had to ask. Zayn likes plans, and answers, and his comfort zone. This? This is so far removed from his tiny dorm room and Avengers movies and study sessions that he can’t even believe they’re still in Britain.

“I mean, we can,” Liam says, eyes big and blinking. “If you want? Only if you want, it’s… it’s whatever you want to do.” Outside of the club with the bustle of the college town moving around them and the chilly early morning air sobering them up, some of the confidence has left both of them. Strangely enough, seeing the uncertainty on Liam’s face bolsters his decision more than almost anything else.

Zayn leans in and presses his lips against Liam’s, and it’s soft and slow and it feels like time is coming to a complete halt around them. In his saddest and most self-pitying moments, Zayn would call his sister and try to put into words just how ugly loneliness felt. She would affectionately coo at him, trying to cover up the hurt she felt at his sadness, and tell him that his time would come. She made sure to reassure him with rare bouts of complete tenderness, and say that one day he’d get the fairytale romcom love that his sappy, romantic heart desired.

This is it. This is his moment. They’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, probably looking like complete assholes, but Zayn feels like _this is it_. Liam gently grasps his hand so they stumble even closer together, and the soberness of faded alcohol has been replaced by the punchdrunk sweetness of Liam’s soft kisses. It’s only his third kiss since he’s been at Uni, but it’s the only one worth remembering.

Zayn is the first to pull away, conscious of the fact that they’re still in public and they still need to actually get to Liam’s flat. He holds onto Liam’s hand and tugs him in the direction of the waiting Uber, and is oddly flattered when Liam scrambles forward to hold the car door open for him.

They make brief introductions with the driver, but the ride is mostly silent. Zayn thinks it’d be awkward under different circumstances, but instead Liam scoots in close and bumps his shoulder against Zayn’s. They giggle at each other, lightly shoving back and forth in the backseat of the Uber, and any tension that could have existed instantly dissipates.

Before long, Zayn recognizes the telltale underwhelming simplicity of the Upperclassmen housing that looks so familiar, but only because if you see one dormitory you’ve seen them all. Liam lives as far from Zayn as campus housing allows. Even ignoring their different years and majors, it’s no wonder they’ve never even bumped into each other before.

Liam’s flat is on the third floor at the end of a very beige hallway, and he can hardly stop giggling at Zayn long enough to get his front door unlocked. The inside would be just as unspectacular as Zayn’s dorm, except there’s sports memorabilia and expensive looking textbooks covering almost every surface. Liam had mentioned that his flatmate was a 4th year communications major on a full ride football scholarship, but between the jerseys and posters and trophies this is a bit...overkill.

“So, this is it. My room’s down this way,” he said, pointing towards a hallway off to the right, “Niall’s is down that way, and that’s the bathroom.” He spins around and spreads his arms out wide, gesturing to the whole of the flat. “What do you think?”

“It’s very…” Zayn pauses and tried to think of the least-insulting word he could, “Sporty?”

Liam ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck bashfully. As far as bachelor pads go, it is essentially a “cool guy flat”, with the leather recliner in the corner and the big screen TV propped up on what looks like an ECON101 book Zayn used last semester, and an XBOX and PlayStation already connected.

“Yeah, well, we take footie very seriously in this flat.” He steps towards Zayn until they’re in touching distance, and reaches a hand out to fiddle with the hem of Zayn’s shirt. His touches are tentative again, and it does something silly to Zayn’s heart. It comforts him more than he could have possibly imagined, this softness that Liam possesses, and it twinges his heartstrings when he breaks the silence to say as casually as possible what he’s neglected to mention thus far.

“I’ve never, like, gone all the way before,” Zayn says, and casual or not it comes out slightly rushed. “Just in case you’re not comfortable with that, or, something. I dunno.” Liam’s fingers halt their fidgeting, and he’s looking at Zayn with an odd sort of disbelief on his face.

“Really?” He shakes his head then backtracks, saying “Not that that I don’t believe you, it’s just with your whole,” then gestures to Zayn’s entire body, “I would have figured, you know. There’s gotta be like a _billion_ people in love with you.”

Zayn can’t hide the smile that fights it’s way onto his lips, so he snorts and looks off to the side of the room at a poster of Pele that’s hung above the TV.

“I dunno about any of that, but I just wanted to mention it incase it weirded you out, or summat.” Zayn’s eyes are drawn to Liam when he puts his hand on Zayn’s hip, his fingers sliding just under Zayn’s shirt and touching bare skin for the first time. It mesmerizes him, the combination of Liam’s thumb caressing over the jut of his hipbone, and the openness of his gaze as he stares at Zayn.

“No, it’s not weird anything, I just... I’d want to make it good for you.” He doesn’t break their eye contact as he spreads his fingers around Zayn’s waist and drags his hands hands slowly up his back. Liam’s fingertips brush each knob of his spine as his shirt raises higher and higher. Zayn is hardly breathing, afraid to interrupt the moment. He feels his eyelashes flutter involuntarily when Liam leans in, breath whispering over Zayn’s lips. He’s bunching up the shirt in his hands now, tugging it up Zayn’s torso.

“Is this okay?” Liam asks, and Zayn’s eyes fall closed as he nods, and his lips brush up against Liam’s at the slight movement. He raises his arms as Liam tugs the shirt over his head, and hears it flutter to the floor quietly. His eyes are still closed with Liam kisses him again, molding their bodies together until Zayn’s nipples are rubbing against the woven material of Liam’s tank top. It’s a different sensation, having his naked chest pressed against Liam’s clothed one. It’s getting him all worked up, just these light kisses with the promise of more, and Zayn can’t help the moan that escapes his lips when one of Liam’s hands strays down to his ass and palms it with intent.

“Can I take you to my bedroom?” Zayn chases Liam’s lips when they break away, but still nods in agreement. He feels light-headed as he’s lead down the hallway to Liam’s room, like he’s breathing for the first time since he walked into the flat. When they get to his room Zayn wants to look around and take notice of everything, so when Liam lets go of his hand to go turn on his bedside lamp, Zayn tries to take in a few details. By the time he turns back around Liam is stripping his top off, and all thoughts of his collectibles and the color of his carpet fade away.

There’s more hair on his chest than Zayn would have guessed, and there’s definition in his arms and abs that Zayn very primally associates with _man_. His hair is tousled from pulling the top off, and he really looks like some sort of GQ cover man, rugged and handsome and completely out of Zayn’s league. But he tries to cut those thoughts short, because they wouldn’t have come this far if Liam didn’t want him, right? He probably could have anyone he wanted but he wanted Zayn, so that counts for something.

Zayn watches silently as Liam walks to the edge of his bed and sits, then beckons Zayn forward with an outstretched hand. He shuffles along the carpet until he’s standing between Liam’s thighs, and then he’s looking down into Liam’s expressive eyes.

Liam’s hands find their way to Zayn’s hips again, rubbing his soft skin and thumbing the sharp cut of his bones, then places the softest kiss just below his navel. All the while he watches Zayn’s face, doesn’t take his eyes off of his reactions and responses. It’s comforting in a way that most people had told him his first time wouldn’t be, and it makes Zayn want to escalate things even further.

“You gonna get the rest of my clothes off, or what?” Zayn says, again trying to act more settled than he feels. Liam smirks up at him and obliges, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping his hand inside and Zayn’s boxers, and holy fuck he’s glad he doesn’t have enough brain cells to be embarrassed right now. With the combination of Liam’s coy smile and his hand finally on Zayn’s cock, he’s getting hard ridiculously fast.

Zayn’s pants are down around his ankles, and he’s barely got enough sense to step out of them before Liam’s talking his hand off his cock (definitely not what Zayn’s goal was) and is standing up. He puts his hand on Zayn’s waist again, a familiar feeling now, and turns them until Zayn’s knees are hitting the back of the mattress.

Now Zayn is the one looking up at Liam, and nope, no embarassment to be found now. Even when he gasps involuntarily at the sight of Liam undoing his belt, and he’s got a cheeky grin on his face since he obviously knows what this is doing to Zayn and is thoroughly enjoying it. Zayn openly gapes when he removes the belt completely and lets it thump against the carpet, and he can feel himself start to sweat when Liam drags the zipper of his jeans down.

He’s really not prepared for Liam pushing down his jeans and boxer briefs with one hand, and lifting out his cock with the other. He doesn’t think he could have _ever_ prepared for this. Because _holy fucking shit_ , do people usually call cocks beautiful? It doesn’t matter, Zayn will start the trend, because Liam has a beautiful goddamn cock. It’s thick and long and heavy looking and the most aesthetically pleasing thing Zayn’s seen in his life, and -

“ _Holy fucking shit._ ” Zayn tears eyes away from Liam’s cock and back up to his equally beautiful face, which is now blushing, but he can’t look away for long. “Can I touch it?” He asks, even though his hand is already reaching out, dragging his thumb down the shaft.

“Yeah, you can, _oh,_ you can do whatever you want,” Liam says, but his sentence is broken up and stuttered when Zayn encircles his hand all the way around. He’s pumping lightly, just barely starting a rhythm, but already Liam’s hips are trying to thrust.

There’s something extremely personal about feeling Liam actually get harder in his hand. It leaves no room for doubt that it’s _Zayn_ making him feel this way and _Zayn_ drawing these reactions from him. It stirs some of his Zayn’s most basic instincts, wanting to please Liam and be pleasured by him. But Liam’s cock is equal parts breathtaking and intimidating, and it’s fair to say that Zayn’s pulse ratchets up just another degree at the thought of actually taking it inside of him.

“How’s this gonna fit inside me, then? Your cock’s fuckin’ massive, Leeyum. Warn a guy, next time.” He drags Liam’s name out on purpose, searching for that reaction he’d had when they were in the club, and he gets it. Liam’s head drops back and he moans, low in his throat, when Zayn tightens his hand.

He’s fully hard now, the tip red and starting to leak. It’s even more impressive like this, but also even more heartstopping. Because all teasing aside, how _is_ this gonna fit inside him? Liam looks like he’s still enjoying himself, but now Zayn’s overthinking things again, and what if he sucks at this? What if they’re not compatible and Liam’s dick is too big and then he blows his chance and Liam never talks to him again because Zayn just had to be a virgin when they met and -

Zayn’s inner tirade is cut off by Liam’s hands on the sides of his face, tilting his head up so their eyes are meeting. His eyebrows are raised in question, and he lifts one of his hands to press his thumb into Zayn’s forehead and smooth out the wrinkles there.

“You frowning at my dick like it’s personally offended you is definitely not the reaction I was looking to get.” Zayn drops his hand self-consciously, and apparently that’s not what Liam wanted either because he sighs and drops to one knee in front of Zayn. He’s posed like some Grecian hero, with his hair curling at the ends from sweat, the sharp cut of his jaw, and down to his strong thighs and the hardness of his cock. Zayn thinks Michelangelo himself would rise from the dead to carve Liam’s likeness, if only to preserve how goddamn beautiful he looks right now.

He can hear Liam telling that they “don’t have to do anything” and they can “just cuddle” and he “doesn’t want to pressure” Zayn and how “incredible” Zayn is, but it’s kind of a distant murmur in the back of Zayn’s head because, this guy is _perfect_. Liam is perfect, and he’s got a huge dick, and Zayn’s scared. That heart-in-your-throat kind of terror that you get right when you’re getting on a rollercoaster, that builds and builds until you’re at the precipice just waiting for the fall.

Zayn scoots back on the bed while Liam’s talking, and takes in the confusion on his face. Zayn might be scared, but Liam makes him want to fight through that undercurrent of fear and just _do_. He wants to be exhilarated and he wants to lose his breath and he wants to get on the goddamn rollercoaster. Later, after they’ve had an appropriate amount of orgasms, Zayn will tell Liam that his dick shall now forever be referred to as “The Rollercoaster.”

“I think I’m ready for you to fuck me now,” Zayn says, and watches Liam’s eyebrows fly up towards his hairline. He stands, looking the part of predatory animal who’s just spotted their prey, and Zayn’s heartbeat skyrockets. He walks silently over to his nightstand and gets out a few condoms and a bottle of lube, then goes back to the edge of the bed.

“I want you to know that I’m nervous too,” Liam says, setting the supplies down then looking up at Zayn. He gets on the bed, the first time they’ve been in it together, and starts maneuvering Zayn’s body until he’s laying flat on his back with his knees raised.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Liam continues, “But I also want you to know that I’m going to do my very best to make this good for you. So good that first time or not, you know that no one else can ever fuck you like I would. Like I’m about to.” He says it with no pretense, like he truly believes what he’s saying, and he expects Zayn to believe it too.

And, holy fuck, Zayn really does.

Everything starts happening at once, and Zayn takes a second to close his eyes, calm his heartbeat, and not blow his load before Liam even properly touches him. He’s so fucking hard, and it’s impossible to focus on anything besides how much he wants this.

His eyes are still closed, but he can hear Liam shifting down the bed. There’s the telltale sound of a cap being popped open, followed by a soft slickness as Liam coats his fingers. Zayn’s so afraid to look, because how is he supposed to last for even one second when just the idea of Liam, just the thought of how he looks right now, has Zayn worked up this much?

“Open your eyes,” Liam says, and Zayn does it completely on instinct. Their eyes meet, and Liam looks just as achingly gorgeous as Zayn had feared. His face is intense and there’s a slight furrow to his brow, and his eyes are so dark and lovely that Zayn could cry. “I want you to watch me while I do this. Keep your eyes open. Don’t look away.”

Then he’s got his slick hand on Zayn’s cock, and he’s ducking his head down to let his tongue trace trail his fingers leave behind, and Zayn really, _really_ thinks he’s going to cry. It feels so good, a million times better than his own hand in the shower. Liam’s tongue is a luscious shade of pink, licking around the head of his cock.

Liam’s mouth closes around the head, sucking lightly then bobbing down, going lower and lower with each pass and letting his hand stroke around the area he can’t reach. Zayn feels feverish, and his hands are gripping at the sheets, and he thinks he can’t possibly survive this. He’s so busy staring at his cock disappear into Liam’s mouth that he doesn’t notice Liam’s free hand inching towards his hole until there’s a finger rubbing around his entrance.

Zayn’s tight, he knows he’s tight, because never really played around with his ass much. And he knows Liam can tell, too. Zayn groans, the muscles in his legs tensing, and Liam pulls off of his cock. He rubs his lips down the side, tongue licking over the vein like he’s kissing his way down Zayn’s cock.

“Just try to relax,” he says, the words almost muffled into Zayn’s skin. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

And just like that Liam’s fingertip is slipping in, and Zayn can feel himself shudder. It’s already too much, already feels like a whirlwind of sensations that are completely new. But when Liam puts Zayn’s cock back in his mouth and starts slowly pressing his finger deeper and deeper, Zayn knows he never wants this to stop.

It burns, just like every part of Zayn is burning, until all of the feelings are melding together and Zayn can’t tell which part of his body is feeling what. It doesn’t take long, not nearly as long as he thought it would, before Liam is pressing another finger at his entrance. Liam’s eyes had fallen closed in concentration, but Zayn can’t look away, can’t miss a single second of this.

The second finger feels like more of a stretch, and he can’t help but whimper as it presses inside him. Liam’s finger are big, but they’re nothing compared to his cock, and Zayn knows logically that this has to go on for as long as it needs to until Zayn can take Liam comfortably. But it doesn’t stop that desperation in his gut that just wants Liam’s cock inside him now, preparation be damned.

They keep going, with Liam forcing Zayn to stay right on the edge of coming. He starts twisting his fingers inside Zayn, spreading him open and fisting his cock, but as soon as Zayn’s moans get too high-pitched, too urgent, when his whole body starts contracting and is ready to explode, Liam pulls back. He’s starting to get frustrated, wants to come so badly he could sob, but every time he groans out his frustration Liam just looks up at him. ‘I know what I’m doing,’ his eyes seem to say, and the look sends another spike of arousal through his body.

When Liam fits a third finger up against his rim, Zayn throws his head back and presses down, trying to get it inside him as quickly as possibly. He wants it almost as badly as he wants Liam’s cock, and he can’t help the needy sob he lets out when Liam stops completely. It’s torture, utter torture, but it feels so goddamn good.

“Look at me,” Liam says, and his hand tightens around Zayn’s cock. Zayn does, and stares into Liam’s eyes as he presses all pushes all three fingers inside at once. It hurts so good, like stretching an abused muscle after a long workout, and Zayn moans his way through it. He’s close, so close, and Liam speeds up his hand as he starts curling his fingers inside of Zayn and pressing deeper.

Zayn shouts when Liam finds his spot. It’s like a live wire, sending a shock through his every cell in his body, and every part of him feels alive. Liam keeping aiming there, doesn’t let up, and starts fucking Zayn with his fingers for real. It’s too much all at once, the combination of Liam’s hand fisting over his cock with just the right amount of too-tight pressure, and his fingers fucking into Zayn, erring on the side of mean, and then Zayn is just _gone_.

His orgasm takes him by surprise, after he’s been kept dangling over the cliff for so long, and he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. He can distantly hear Liam talking him through it, telling him how good he is, how fucking beautiful he looks, how good Liam’s going to fuck him. Zayn can’t do anything but moan and squirm and grab at the sheets and try not to completely black out.

Before Zayn’s cock can even begin to soften, Liam pulls his fingers out of him, much to Zayn’s dismay, and grabs the nearest condom. He rips it open with shaking hands, and now Zayn can really see how much this is effecting Liam too. His cock is just as hard as Zayn’s, flushed red and leaking, and he curses when he rolls the condom onto himself and slicks some lube over it.

Zayn hasn’t even caught his breath yet, is still panting and shaking his way through the aftershocks, when Liam yanks a pillow from the top of his bed and places it underneath Zayn’s lower back. He situates himself between Zayn’s legs and rubs a hand up Zayn’s thigh like he can’t bear to not touch his skin.

“Do you remember what I said? About how no one will ever fuck you like I can? Like I’m going to right now?” Zayn nods, and Liam holds his cock in one hand, then rubs the head against Zayn’s hole. He’s still open from Liam’s fingers, and he can feel his body trying to pull Liam in. “Is it good for you so far?”

Zayn can only moan as Liam holds his hip with one hand, and uses the other to push his cock in. In that moment, Zayn feels like he’s falling apart, and Liam presses completely in with one long slide. Zayn’s heart is in his throat, and he can’t breathe, and it feels so good he can’t even moan anymore.

He’s so full, and still so sensitive from his orgasm. He hadn’t known it would be like this, the way Liam reaches even deeper inside him when he pulls Zayn’s legs around his waist, and leans down over Zayn until they’re face to face. His cock won’t soften, and it adds a whole other sensation when the hardness of Liam’s abs rubs against the hardness of Zayn’s cock as they press together.

After some adjustment time, he sets a slow pace, balancing with his forearms on either side of Zayn’s head. Liam fucks a whimper out of him with a particularly accurate thrust that jabs directly at his prostate. He hitches Zayn’s thigh higher, setting into an angle that already has Zayn’s vision whiting out at the edges.

He keeps fucking into Zayn, still not very fast, but so incredibly deep, and Zayn can’t get his body to do anything but lay and take it. Liam’s hips undulate as he thrusts in, and the drag of his cock against Zayn’s spot is like the sweetest, most mind-numbing torture.

“Did you believe me,” Liam says, speeding up “When I told you that I would fuck you this good? When I said that _nobody,_ ” he punctuates his words with a thrust so perfect it has tears welling in Zayn’s eyes, “Would be good enough for you afterwards.”

His hand is tight on Zayn’s thigh, and Zayn hopes it leaves bruises. He wants to have a physical reminder of this, a brand of his skin of this moment.

“I want you to come again, without me touching you. Can you do that?” Liam gives a particularly mean thrust, and Zayn can only cry out in response. He doesn’t have any words left, can’t articulate anything, but he fists his fingers in the short hairs on the back of Liam’s neck, tugging lightly. He groans, and drops his head in the space between Zayn’s neck and shoulder.

Zayn can tell they’re both close, in the way Liam grunts with effort, and the way his hair is damp with sweat. Zayn himself can’t even believe he’s lasted this long, and as much as he wants Liam to be inside of him forever, he also wants to come.

Zayn’s orgasm is just as surprising the second time, if not more. It sneaks up on him, seeps into his bones and grabs him so quickly he’s almost not ready for it. Liam’s fucking into him, beckoning him on with grunts of “Come on, come on,” and it’s just all Zayn can take.

Zayn can feel himself tighten rhythmically around Liam’s cock as the orgasm hits him in waves. Every muscle in his body tenses, and he wraps his arms around Liam’s neck, and his visions darkens around the edges. He couldn’t put it into words if someone asked him, this burning freezing sensation like lightning shooting through his body. It’s like someone’s injected pure energy into his veins and set him off like a fire charge. Liam’s hips stutter, and Zayn can’t help but moan as he keeps going.

“Please, Liam, please, please, inside me, oh _fuck_ ,” he begs, trying to beckon Liam over the cliff with him. It’s bordering into overstimulation now, with how long Liam is prolonging Zayn’s aftershocks, and Zayn just wants Liam to feel as good as he does.

Liam’s fingers dig into his skin, and he pulls Zayn’s hips down until every centimeter of his cock is inside of him, and he’s finally coming. He groans out a low, hurt sound into Zayn’s neck and almost collapses on top of him. His rhythm falters, and then he’s just grinding deep into Zayn, pressing relentlessly against Zayn’s prostate. They continue like that for a few moments, letting the shudders roll through them, feeling each other’s aftershocks like a feedback loop of lingering pleasure. The satisfaction reverberates through both of them, Zayn knows, and it’s delicious, they way they’ve brought each other to completion.

After a while, Liam pulls out of Zayn, and both of them hiss at the sensitivity. The aftermath is kinda gross, in Zayn’s opinion, and he’s grateful when Liam rolls out of bed to toss the condom and comes back with a wet towel for both of them. He rubs at the leftover lube around Zayn’s hole and on his cock, and smirks when Zayn gasps at the light touch. He feels raw in the best way, but he definitely can’t take anymore.

He watches Liam rub the towel over Zayn’s stomach where he’d come the second time, all over his own skin, and feels such a fondness. He’s gentle in the way he cleans Zayn, attentive comforting in the quiet moments now.

“We should call your dick The Rollercoaster,” Zayn says, pretty much out of the blue after they’ve settled in together for a cuddle. Liam’s chest is pressed to Zayn’s back, but he forces Zayn to turn over so they’re face to face after he makes his comment.

“Is that… good or bad?” Liam’s brow furrows in confusion, but then he’s smirking at Zayn like he’s some fascinating thing he’s just discovered.

“Well,” Zayn says, snuggling into Liam’s chest, fitting his head right underneath Liam’s chin, “It’s like it was kinda scary to get on at first, you know, but then I actually tried it out? And it was like, the best thing ever, so now i just wanna ride it again and again. What do you think?” He looks up at Liam’s face, grinning cheekily, and is taken slightly aback and how open and happy his face look.

“I think you can call it whatever you want, as long as you agree to never leave this bed ever again.” Liam tightens his arms around Zayn, and pulls him even farther in.

“Never?” Zayn asks, tickling his hand up the back of Liam’s spine just to feel him shudder. “Not even for class, or food? What if there’s a fire?”

“ _Never_ ,” Liam says, and there’s laughter in his voice, and it’s one of the nicest things Zayn’s ever heard in his life. “We’ll just stay here forever, till we’re old and gray and The Rollercoaster’s broken.”

Zayn laughs, and lets his eyes fall closed as Liam holds him. It’s so pleasant and warm, both physically and emotionally, like this is where Zayn was always meant to be. He feels like this is his place, here in Liam’s arms, cuddling after he delivered on his promise of fucking Zayn better than anyone else could.

“Forever sounds alright, I guess,” Zayn says, yawning past his words. “I think I could live with that.” He feels Liam press a kiss to the top of his head, and he smiles.

Forever sounds pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! This was written from a prompt I received on my tumblr @ pinklemonadelucozade.tumblr.com
> 
> Please stop by and say hello, or leave me prompts, or concrit!


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